


Words Unsaid

by orphan_account



Series: with the ocean in our arms [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Post CoLS, Romance, break-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Something in Alec's heart ached and broke as all the unsaid words still between them, even after all this time, fell from the treetops and rained upon them both. In a world where there is no "they"...





	

**Author's Note:**

> First story on AO3, welcome to my shiny new account that I have no idea how to use properly. 
> 
> Of course it just has to be Malec angst, I hope you enjoy it regardless! Comments and kudos are awesome and if you can leave them, so are you. :)

Alec peeked into the infirmary and sighed, a long, drawn-out exhale through the nose. The beds were almost full, there were splotches of blood everywhere, and more injured Nephilim were trekking in, dragging broken limbs or nursing bleeding gashes. 

 

It had been the worst attack on the New York Institute in more than two decades; and while families from three of the neighboring Institutes were visiting, no less. No one was sure how the pack of rogue werewolves had managed to enter, but Jace had mentioned something about a weak spot in the wards leading to the Sanctuary, which would have given easy access to the entire pack; not more than four or five scraggly werewolves, but ones driven by rage and desperation and enormous strength. 

 

It was a planned attack, a calculated maneuver that Alec would have to discuss with the local Enclave as head of the Institute, leading to argumentative, dreary conversations about the Accords and the peace that they represented, etcetera, etcetera. He was not looking forward to it. With a small sigh, he let himself out of the infirmary; he would only be a distraction anyway. 

 

Alec made his way back to his office at the end of the hallway nearest the elevators. It was a fairly large space, made tiny by the sheer amount of books, papers and laptops crammed into it. The back wall was currently holding a rack of pastel-colored tisanes for insomnia that looked strangely out of place with the heavy, dark furnishings and dim light of the room. 

 

There was a pale blue sticky note haphazardly stuck onto the middle of his desk; Izzy’s wide, curling script stretched across it in bold letters, telling him that she had called in a warlock to check on the warding protections. She was on patrol, so could he please meet whoever was coming, please and thank you, with love. 

 

He sighed again, and resigned himself to the fact that he would be stuck behind the desk for another indeterminate period of time, unless his sister happened to come back early. Of course, he couldn’t help but let a fond laugh escape him, albeit a little exasperated. 

 

Just as Alec had sat down and pulled out a clean sheet of lined paper in the interest of finally getting some work done, the door popped open again with a firm snap. 

 

“Now, make it quick, Shadowhunter, I’ve got clients that—” A voice flowed into the room, bringing with it impressions of swirling silk, the touch of a familiar hand, and the way a lazy afternoon sun might beam onto the wood floor. It broke off quickly as Alec’s eyes widened, placing that voice. 

 

He stood up quickly, pushing his desk chair back with a screech, as Magnus Bane, whom he had not seen or spoken to in over five years—and even before that, it was only at a purely business meeting with the other Downworld representatives, meaning they had not exchanged anything more than the few words that courtesy demanded—strode purposefully into his office. 

 

If Magnus was surprised at seeing him there, he recovered impressively quickly, straightening his posture right away and dusting off his already impeccable trench coat-style jacket. There was a nonchalant air to all of his actions, but in a carefully deliberate way, the only thing that betrayed his hesitance. 

 

“I was under the impression that I would be meeting with Isabelle Lightwood.” His tone was smooth, professional. There was nothing in it to show any trace of a past relationship. 

 

And that was the way it should be, Alec knew. There should not be anything to show of a connection other than work. It hadn’t worked out, it never would, and it would benefit neither of them to keep trying, not when it was already so long gone.

 

“Alexander? I was called to look at the wards, correct?” Magnus arched his eyebrows in that fluid way of his, but there was no mocking behind it. 

 

“Right,” Alec said. It was entirely too easy to get lost in the past, and he couldn’t afford to do that right now. “Isabelle is currently on patrol in the Bronx. I hope it isn’t an inconvenience.” He waited just long enough for Magnus to confirm that no, it wasn’t before rushing on. “We believe there was a possible breach in the wards of the Sanctuary area. We’d like for you to take a look there, as a safety precaution to prevent further attacks.”

 

“I’ll have to see the area. But if there is damage brought on by a magical source, only the owner of the source can repair the breach.” 

 

“I see.” Alec nodded. “Come with me.” He led Magnus out of his office down the hallway, clearing away the handful of lingering Shadowhunters with a few orders. 

 

All the way to the Sanctuary, he could feel Magnus’ eyes settling onto him from behind. It made his spine twitch uncomfortably, but he refused to look back. He knew he had changed; out of everyone who had been at the Institute originally, he was the one who had changed the most. It wasn’t quite a physical change—training had kept them all equally fit and trim—but more in the way he held himself. While Izzy and Clary, and even Jace, had retained their youthful grace and energy, Alec had earned himself nothing but maybe a harder set to his mouth that wasn’t there before, and a stiffness in the way he stood. 

 

Magnus was the one who was the same, the one who would always remain the same even after all of eternity. Alec chanced a glance back as they arrived, passed off as casual look. He was wearing a darker palette of makeup, blacks and browns and a hint of silver, and a hairstyle that teased up his entire head, making him look much taller than Alec remembered. He did look different, of course, but he was still undeniably Magnus. 

 

He stepped closer to the Sanctuary door, and blue sparks flickered into his hands. “Here?” 

 

Alec nodded, moving back a little as Magnus muttered something under his breath. Blue magic circled the walls and swirled around them in a hypnotic pattern. After a few minutes, twisting it this way and that, Magnus slammed his hands together in front of him, and the lights went out. 

 

“It’s all finished, Alexander,” Magnus said with a final wave that sent a faint wall of flame cascading down the stone. “It was merely due to a malfunction of the wards. They were weak to begin with, and the intruders must have exploited that when they entered.”

 

“No one calls me Alexander,” Alec blurted out, before he could stop himself. 

 

Magnus acknowledged this with a nod. “The exception stands before you.”

 

Alec sighed again for what seemed like the hundredth time. “What are you trying to do? Is this flirtation?”  

 

“So straightforward, still,” Magnus mused with a rueful laugh. “No, Alec. I think you’ll notice I’ve stopped flirtation a long time ago.”

 

“Then what—”

 

Magnus let his mask of indifference slip. It was an accidental, human mistake, but he didn’t put it back up. “Alec. What do you want me to do?” 

 

All of a sudden, his posture, his body language, his features seemed much softer, much less sharp. They weren’t fine-edged knives anymore, they were the sting of a dull, unsharpened arrow, and it hurt more than Alec could have ever imagined. It was odd seeing him so vulnerable—and it hurt, because he realized they’d been separate for long enough that he had forgotten this side of Magnus. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe somewhere along the way, he had just given it up, because he had thought he would never see it again. 

 

But now. Now that he was standing so close to Magnus, tendrils of a sandalwood-like smell clinging to the air around them, for a moment, as he shut his eyes and forgot the world around him, Alec could believe that he was young again, starting over. 

 

“I don’t know,” he sighed eventually. “I just—I…”

 

Magnus’ eyes fluttered briefly, as if he was in pain. “Are you with anyone, Alexander? Boyfriend? Fiance?” 

 

“No one.” He shook his head. And because it seemed only polite to ask it back, even though the answer would break him, he questioned, “And you?”

 

“Never anyone serious.” 

 

Alec hated the relief that washed down over his body at that statement. At the end of the day, he was the one who still couldn’t move on. 

 

There was a long silence between them, in which all the words he wanted to say choked against his throat painfully. He forced them down, because he was never good with words, and he didn’t deserve to say them anyway. They were all excuses. He would not stoop to using them. 

 

He just looked at Magnus’ face, at his golden cat eyes, at his highlighted cheekbones, and tried to memorize all of the arches and planes and hollows of it. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe it would be enough to just think of all the unsaid words, and maybe Magnus would understand that he really, truly, was sorry. 

 

 

“Well, then,” Magnus broke eye contact and plastered a smile onto his face. It was so obviously fake, but neither of them mentioned it. “I guess I’ll be going, then.” Magnus inclined his head. “Goodbye, Alexander.” He turned around and began walking away.

 

Alec didn’t react until he was halfway to the grand doors of the Institute. “Wait, Magnus!” The warlock paused. Looked at him. Waited, as he rushed forward. “I didn’t pay you yet.”

 

Magnus shook his head, a sad smile on his face. It was the smile people had on when they knew the inevitable was happening, and Alec felt like breaking. “There’s no payment. There’s never any payment, when it comes to you, Alec.” He lifted a hand, as if to touch Alec’s face, but let it drop before it was more than halfway there. 

 

And he walked away, opening the doors, a lonely black figure against the white lines of the hazy fog that ensnared the morning, and the faint blue curve of where the sky met land. 

 

Something in Alec’s heart ached and broke as all the unsaid words still between them, even after all this time, fell from the treetops and rained upon them both. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @moonlightandashes and on FF.net (where I update more frequently) also as Moonlight and Ashes.
> 
> Thanks for reading! xx, Minerva ♡


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